![]() ![]() The characters are so in-depth, so real, so raw, that you can visually see them like I've never been able to in a series before. As I write my review, I am at the same point of struggle, I have so much to say and cannot figure out how to articulate and describe what I'm feeling after reading this insanely well-written book. She would not tell me anything but that I needed to read this book above all others I've never heard her fumble with her words as she did trying to describe how much she loves this book. I was recommended this book by a friend who couldn't even describe to me what this book was all about and what happens. I have no words for what this book has just put me through. So excited to start book two, yet so scared. But yet they both carry a sweet and tender side when it comes to her. It will be interesting to see how she grows into the next book.īut the men in these books, oh my □ Even though in more ways than one they should be forbidden you can't help but be drawn to them. But also shines a lot of light on being present and living in the now.īoth of the guys challenge her throughout this book, each in their own individual way. It touches on some very deep and meaningful topics throughout the book in what the guys believe in, based on the world we live in. To finally getting some kind of answer toward the end, only to be hit with another form of mystery, making you want to dive straight into book two to see what will happen next. And the spice was definitely spicing.Ĭertainly a suspense the whole way through, with little to no hint at the meaning of what they do. ![]() One golden & light and one dark & broody man, both with an air of mystery made it hard not to love. But it still hooked me in anyway, desperate to find out. Did it have me confused beyond reason in terms of what was going on in the background, 100% yes. But I can't walk away from them, as toxic as they may be. The Ravenhood trilogy is a gritty, modern-day take on Robin Hood filled with suspense, thrills, and all the feels. At least that was the case for me and the men I trusted my foolish heart to. Looking back, I’m convinced I willed my story into existence, due to my illness, and all were punished. You can’t re-live your own love story, because by the time you’ve realized you’re living it, it’s over. But in order to keep them, I had to be in on their secrets. Secrets that cost us everything to keep. That’s the novelty of fiction versus reality. Triple Falls wasn’t at all what it seemed, nor were the men that swept me under their wing. I gave into temptation and fed the beating beast, which grew thirstier with every slash, every strike, every blow. I grew up sick. Let me clarify: I grew up believing that real love stories include a martyr or demand great sacrifice to be worthy. Because of that, I believed it, because I made myself believe it, and I bred the most masochistic of romantic hearts, which resulted in my illness. When I lived this story, my own twisted fairy tale, it was unbeknownst to me at the time because I was young and naïve.
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